


March Words 27: Wealth

by Siriusstuff



Series: March Words [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Flash Fic, Kidnapped Derek, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentioned Kate Argent, Minor Character Death, Revenge, Stiles to the rescue, Werewolf Hunters, please read top note re: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 14:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14114277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: Stiles uses powerful magic to rescue Derek from his captors and then to exact vengeance.





	March Words 27: Wealth

**Author's Note:**

> For day 27 of the March Words prompt list: https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/171412546721/drabble-me-march
> 
> The word is "wealth."
> 
> A/N: I've vowed never to put Derek in harm's way in any of my fics but I've written him as kidnapped here, though I don't dwell on it, and he's rescued, back safely with Stiles by the end.  
> This is mostly a depiction of Stiles's rescue mission and then punishment of Derek's captors.  
> RE: KATE ARGENT. I truly despise this character, and will only ever bring her into a fic so I can get even with her. She is present in this fic but in the background, and very minor. She is not shown doing harm to Derek.

Nothing about the setting surprised Stiles, not the house’s remote location or its dilapidated condition.

The two bored hunters on the porch didn’t bother frisking him.—Everyone in attendance would be carrying weapons.

They only glared at Stiles as he followed the noise to the basement where portable generators provided the only light.

Stiles had expected more than the dozen present, all of them hunters he presumed, as they must have considered him the same.

Those who’d declined their invitations would be the lucky ones, till another time.

Stiles had seen Derek instantly, in a corner, still in the shirt and pants he’d worn the day he was taken, though his shoes were gone.

He was bound to a chair. His head drooped and he was blindfolded.

Stiles had to focus lest his rage collapse the house at once.

Gerard Argent stood a few feet away from Derek, but his equally psychotic daughter hovered close to the chair. She held a weapon and conversed idly with someone.

One of the generators suddenly failed.

With that, old Argent spoke up.

“Gentlemen, shall we get this underway?”

He moved a standing light so Derek was brightly illuminated. There was no response from Derek.

Stiles could see marks, stains, on his mate’s face and clothes, and had to shut his eyes again, once more holding back the impulse to start killing before he’d secured Derek's safety.

In some unlit corner on the basement’s other side came the clatter of a noisy avalanche of debris.

“Here we have a unique specimen, a mongrel who’d learned to appear human enough to deceive an employer. He is quite the sturdy specimen too. I’m sure those you represent will be pleased with his many possible uses.”

Outside, the old porch railing snapped when one of the guards leaned against it. He toppled to the ground.

Argent tugged Derek by the hair, exposing a collar round his neck.

“We’ve refined a metallurgic process, an alloy incorporating mountain ash. Made into a collar it disables these beasts, rendering them docile.”

Stiles had had more than enough.

“Two thousand!” he shouted, startled at his heavy accent. But his disguise was potent.

Argent laughed. “I understand your eagerness, sir.” He peered toward the crowd but could not see past the light. “The bidding starts at five thousand, nothing less.”

“Five thousand!” Stiles echoed, loudly.

The bids mounted quickly, a half thousand dollars at time but no matter how high the amount, Stiles would not lose.

At the ten thousand dollar bid, “ _Gottverdammt!_ I have gold!” Stiles roared.

In the silence following, Argent’s querulous “Gold?” was perfectly clear.

He turned the light stand toward the crowd. Stiles’s square jaw, tufted blond hair and ice-blue eyes made him conspicuous among the grubbier looks affected by most hunters. His appearing a shining example of the “Master Race” made an aged Nazi like Argent weak in the knees.

Stiles barged his way before Derek’s captor. He held out a black bag, too heavy for the old man to lift, and let Argent open it.

Reaching in, he removed two gold coins with a trembling hand.

Even in the harsh lighting the coins gleamed with unearthly glory, eliciting gasps from the most world-weary hunter.

Taking up more coins from the bag into his hands, each coin flawless as if newly minted, polished to such a sheen they appeared hyper-real, Argent could barely speak his question, “How much?”

“All of it! For the wolf!” Stiles snapped.

No scale was necessary for Argent to know he stood in the presence of tens of thousands of dollars in gold coins.

“Sold!” he said, quietly, smirking, as if the joke were on his fool buyer.

“Hands off my property, _du Schlampe!”_ Stiles immediately whirled about and snarled viciously at Argent’s daughter, still close to Derek in his chair.

“Do as the man says, Katherine,” she heard her father say, his eyes fixed on his treasure, as if bewitched by it.

Because he was.

Stiles rushed toward Derek, relieved to find him solid and warm when he laid a hand on his shoulder.

He curled an index finger round the collar, feeling it snap. Though the metal remained in place the mountain ash’s power was broken.

Unsheathing a fearsome hunting knife he cut Derek’s bonds before brandishing the blade at Argent’s offspring, with an enraged growl.

“Out of my way!” he bellowed, pushing through the now dwindled crowd of hunters.

Not attempting the stairs with Derek’s weight against him, Stiles headed into the basement’s shadows where an exterior wall had crumbled earlier, open enough to get through it.

Outside he heard a ruckus from the front yard, where hunters eager to leave after their failed bids found themselves trapped behind an invisible barrier.

Stiles’s Germanic glamour evaporated as he crossed the ward closely hemming the house.

Stopping some yards away, with human strength he pulled the snapped collar wide apart enough to remove it from around Derek’s neck.

Derek began returning to consciousness in seconds, which was good because it was time to get away. Stiles’s magic’s final act was in progress.

In the basement, amid much grumbling and shuffling of disgruntled hunters, Gerard Argent stood still dazzled by the coins he fondled, so fascinated he took far too long before reacting to their melting in his hands.

He screamed as liquid fire seared his palms.

At the same time a flare of blinding light erupted from the gaping black bag of gold on the floor. It exploded in a cloud of billowing flame, setting both Argents and the hunters standing closest by on fire, then engulfing everything else.

The long-abandoned house ignited like kindling, the flames confined by the encircling ward.

At the open back of the dingy van Stiles had chosen for its obscurity in the dark, Derek drank water Stiles had brought with him.

“Hospital, we’re going,” Stiles insisted though Derek of course disagreed.

“I’m healing. I just need rest. And some food.”

The truth was Stiles didn’t look forward to another minute’s separation from Derek so he could be persuaded to let him have his way.

He didn’t want to rehash the details of Derek’s kidnapping, not just then, but Derek wanted to talk.

“I could hear everything. I knew it was you—even with that accent. But when’d you learn German?”

“That glamour was very thorough. Surprised even me.”

“Do I want to know where you got _gold?”_

“ _Gold_ , Derek?” Stiles replied, tenderly caressing his beloved mate’s face between his hands, watching his wounds disappear. He even more tenderly kissed Derek’s still dry lips.

“That was _not_ gold.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of the German Stiles speaks in this fic.  
> I gathered these translations on line, therefore, my faith in their accuracy is pending.
> 
> _Gottverdammt_ seems the equivalent of "goddammit."
> 
> _du Schlampe_ seems clearly a pejorative term against a woman, though I saw various translations. My intended meaning for it in this fic is "you bitch."
> 
> I always appreciate corrections to any language mistakes I perpetrate.


End file.
